


Paid in Full

by evieplease



Series: Wet Start One shots [2]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Bathtubs, Cowgirl Position, Dinner, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Makeup Sex, Misunderstandings, NSFW, Oral Sex, plumber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 16:29:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16643705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evieplease/pseuds/evieplease
Summary: Rocky and Tom forgot to exchange phone numbers, creating a misunderstanding.





	Paid in Full

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot takes place directly after Wet Start. The previous one shot, Coming in a Theater Near You, is out of the time line. That one takes place sometime after Paid in Full. Sorry for the confusion! And you should know that my co-conspirator, Cat, was horrified at Tom's menu choices. I take full responsibility!

“Oh fer fuck's sake Dad, I'll get to it when I can! I'm only one person, ya know!"

Dad had half-retired a couple of weeks ago, complaining about his knees, and no longer going out on calls. He was concentrating on running the business side of things, answering the phone, scheduling, doing the bills and the books. Consequently, he has become a major pain in my arse, as I'm the only actual working plumber in the business until he hires someone to help.

"Roxanne," Dad growled, "mind your mouth, girl!"

"Dammit, Dad!" I burst out, "Don't fucking call me that!" I turned and stomped away from my Dad's red, patronizing face, ready to punch something.

"Rocky!" Dad's sharp bark stopped me in my tracks, my shoulders up around my ears. If he'd called me that hated epithet, Roxanne, again I'd have kept going and slammed the door behind me for good measure.

My shoulders were still up around my ears, my hands balled into tight, aching fists. I hated that name, hated the reminder of the woman who had cursed me with it.

"Rocky, whatever is wrong? Why are you..." Dad's voice had softened, sounding bewildered. "This client paid his bill punctually and in full. He even added an 80 quid gratuity! Why are you having such a hard time scheduling his follow-up? He's asked twice now!"

I stood still, my back to my Dad, feeling the rigidity of my spine and a headache coming on. Tom had added 80 quid, exactly the same amount I had left with my note, and Dad mentions it every time he bugs me about going back. I felt the heat of a bright flush over my face and chest, and hunched my shoulders.

I had explained in the note I'd left Tom, about not wanting to get into it with my Dad, that his official bill would be an hour more than I had worked, plus travel time that I had actually spent in his bed. And yet, here he was, paying his bill in full, and adding that bloody 80 quid on top! Was he seriously paying me for spending the night with him??

And if he was, eighty pounds? Really? Eighty fucking quid! I was worth a hell of a lot more than that! At least 500 a night, probably 1,000! 2,000! 

One day I’d decide if I was more insulted by being paid to sleep with him, or being underpaid! Right now I was content to just be offended and leave it at that.

I was so brassed off with him. With myself. How dare he!? Now he's insisting that I present myself? I'm furious...and horribly embarrassed. How could I possibly face him? I'm not a whore, and yet Tom went and paid me like one...

"Rocky love," Dad's voice softened into a worried tone, "did that client do… something? You know, to you?"

"No! God, Dad, no! Of course not!"  

Nothing that I didn't want him to do... Shit. I wanted to clutch at my hair and scream, but I managed to hold it back, drawing a deep breath and forcing my muscles to loosen from their fight or flight pose. I sighed.

I supposed I couldn't avoid him forever, it didn't look like he’d stop calling, and Dad was only going to become more insistent.

"All right Dad, I'll see if I can schedule him for… about half five today. I'll find the time."

"If you're sure?" Dad sounded uncertain. God, the last thing I needed in my life was for Dad to remember that I'm female and start worrying about me being taken advantage of at work!

"Of course, Dad. I'm only busy! I'll do my best, right?" I turned and brushed a swift kiss on his bristly cheek, and left on my first call of the day.

My annoyance continued to simmer in the back of my head as I went about my day, interrupted by brief bursts of fury and dread as the time got closer to my appointment with the posh idiot. I was nearly shaking by the time I drew my truck up outside his house.

In my post-coital haze and haste before I had left, I’d forgotten to exchange numbers with him that bright, snowy morning. 

Seriously, that man should come with some sort of health warning. Caution, excessive use of Tom Hiddleston may impair your ability to brain.  

If he wanted to see me again, he had our business number, right? But I'd heard nothing from him for weeks and shrugged it off. A one night stand then, no harm, no foul. We'd both been clear about being too busy for any kind of relationship more serious than 'friends with benefits'. And since Dad’s semi-retirement, I'd only got busier.

But then Dad said Mr. Hiddleston had called, wanting a follow up inspection of his old, victorian age plumbing, and gleefully mentioned that cursed 80 quid 'gratuity'. Right that minute I lost my nut. I went from pleased to enraged in nought point two seconds. How fucking dare he?!

So, I'd ducked him. Repeatedly. Until Dad finally pinned me down. I either had to get my arse over and check his bleeding pipes, or get my Dad's suspicions up. And geez, I do not want to deal with that.

****

Tom pulled the front door open with a wide smile. My eyes came up and searched for any hint of triumph at getting me here at last, and found none. All I could read from that smiling face and blue, blue eyes, was pleasure.

"Rocky! Come in, come in!" He invited with a happy grin and a theatrical sweep of his hand.

I stepped over the lintel, my glance flicking over the room behind him and then back to him as he stepped forward, grasped my elbows and kissed both my cheeks. Did I look fucking French? No! The posh idiot should stick to the traditional British greeting of a staid air kiss followed by some inane chatter about the weather.

I slid my tool bag off my shoulder onto the floor with a clattering thump.

"I need you to tell me right fucking now, why did you send that 80 quid back?" I demanded. "I told you... Dammit Tom, I'm a plumber, not a..." My voice trailed off, tears stinging my eyes as I choked on the word. How humiliating!

Tom looked shocked, his eyebrows shooting up – and fuck me – his ears turning pink as his eyes narrowed.

"Rocky..." he said slowly, seriously, “You left 80 quid on my sideboard. What the hell was I supposed to do with that, darling?"

"What do you mean?"  I spit out, and strode toward his sideboard, pointing at the spot I'd left his 80 quid with my note right on top. I rocked to a halt. The 80 quid still sat there. Right where I left it. I stared at it, astounded. Who leaves 80 quid just lying about for... I counted up. Almost 4 weeks?

But no note.

"Where is it?" I demanded over my shoulder. He followed me in and stood behind me, looking over my shoulder.

“Where’s what?” 

“My note!”

"I told you Rocky, there was no note. Just the money."

"I tell you, I left a bloody note! Right there!" I stared back at him, my mouth mirroring his straight line.

I stepped away and bent to look under the sideboard, just as Tom did the same, and our heads collided with an almighty thump.

I saw stars, and with a yell of shock and pain I fell onto my arse. Tom echoed my yell with a pained grunt, falling backward as well, although he managed to regain his balance. 

I clutched at the searing pain on my forehead as I sat there, blinking stupidly around.

Tom shook his head and knelt beside me, down on one knee like a good white knight should.

"Are you all right? Jesus Rocky, I'm sorry!" He hovered over me, reaching out to grasp my arms and steady me.

I blinked and nodded. "Yeah. I guess…” My pride was hurt far worse than my head. “Ow.” I rubbed at the bump, but that hurt so I settled for cupping it protectively and blinking owlishly around.

"Here. Let me..." he lowered me gently to lie on the floor, and I was still too stunned to protest. He took my hand away from my head but I resisted a little, afraid he’d bump my bump!

"Let me look at you." He admonished me, and peered closely at my eyes, his worry as plain as day on his expressive features.

"Damn, you have a fucking hard head, Hiddleston!" I was coming ‘round enough to see the humor of our pratfall. “I’ve heard of tin heads but your noggin must be made of rock! And I don’t mean the Brighton kind of rock!”

A relieved smile at my apparent regaining of my senses crossed his face. I reached up and touched the bright pink mark over his left eye.

"You're all right, are you?" I asked.

"I'll do." He caught my hand. "But your head is at least as hard as mine!" He chuckled.

“Dad always said I was thick headed,” I grumbled. "But I'm the one flat on my back on the floor! Did my brain fall out...?" I asked with a loopy grimace, turning my head to check the floor. His chuckle turned into a laugh. He started to say something but I interrupted with a crow.

"A-ha! Mystery solved!" In my mind a cartoon light bulb was right now illuminating over my head. Along with the cartoon birds twittering in circles around it. my head.

I rolled onto my side and reached under the sideboard where I had spied a piece of paper lying right at the back, near the wall. Snatching it up I wriggled out from under the sideboard and presented it to Tom with a flourish and smug smile. Well, as smug as a smile can be, while still lying on my one night stand’s floor with a throbbing goose egg on my forehead.

"Told you!" I pushed the paper into his hand.

As he read it I could see various emotions playing over his features, confusion, surprise, and finally understanding.

“I don’t mind paying the extra callout fee,” he said with amusement as he looked up from my note. 

“And I don’t want you paying for time that I wasn't actually working or traveling!”

“You traveled home the next morning.” He pointed out.

“I know, but that was after we… The walk of shame doesn't count!” 

“Don’t call it that,” he scowled, tilting his head to the side. “It wasn't shameful, at least I hope it wasn’t!” 

Oh great, now I’d offended him. 

“No...you’re right, it wasn't shameful,” I said, a smile tugging at the edge of my lips as I was reminded of some of our antics that night. “Eh, it wasn’t bad.”

He returned my smile and it quickly grew into a grin that I matched. 

“Truce? Paid in full?” he asked holding his hand out to me. I stuck my hand in his and gave it a firm shake.

“Truce.”

Tom put his hand over mine, encasing it between his larger ones.

“It’s good to see you, Rocky.”

“So do you actually want a quote to replace your pipes,” I asked , “Or was that just a ploy to get me back in your clutches?”

“Well, I do want a professional to look everything over and make sure it’s all up to the job, but if it makes you uncomfortable, it doesn't have to be you.”

“Well, which is it? Am I here to check your plumbing or, erm, your plumbing?” Yes, I admit, I was teasing him. I kind of enjoyed watching him twisting himself into knots. 

“Um, both?” He said, his grin turning slyly hopeful. “I just didn't have a way to contact you, and your Dad wouldn't give me your mobile number, so if I wanted to see you again, I had to book another job. But it is a job that needs doing...” 

“Yeah, yeah,” I smirked. “Don’t worry, I’ll check your pipes out for ya.”

He chuckled at my double entendre. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all week!”

“If that’s true, you need a better pick-up line!” I smirked at him, and he smirked right back. He cleared his throat.

“Anyway...when your Dad booked the appointment, I ran out and got a few things in for dinner, if you’d like to stay?” 

“Well, you are my last call of the day, so I suppose I could...  Of course, I’m not dressed for polite company. But if you’re not bothered, I’m not.” Tom smiled softly at me.

“You can borrow my fluffy socks again if you want.” 

“That’s your idea of dressing for polite company? Man, I really need to see you in your Red Carpet fancy dress!” I snickered. “But I’d kill to soak in that oversized tub of yours again.” 

I could see him wondering it it was big enough to fuck me in. To be honest, I was wondering the same thing. Maybe...

“But, first things first!” I whipped out my mobile and handed it to him with my contacts pulled up. “Number, please. I really don’t want you ringing my Dad for booty calls!” I grinned as he choked and snickered.

He typed out his phone number and handed it back. I tagged the number ‘Posh Idiot’, saved it, and stowed it away in my bag, first checking the ringer was off. Hmm, maybe I’ll take a photo of that gorgeous bathtub to go with his contact tag.

“Now then, “ I said as I stood and turned, squeaking in surprise when his arms went around me and he pulled me in close to his body, leaning down to whisper in my ear.

“All right? Are we clear that nobody is getting paid for the, shall we say, personal portion of the evening? And we’re both here doing what we both want?” I pulled my head back to see his expression. His stern face had a twinkle lurking.

“Well, all right. But…” I said plaintively,  “can I soak in your tub again?” I overdid the puppy dog eyes, clasping my hands under my chin, blinking up at him innocently, and the twinkle grew.

Tom pursed his lips ruefully. “Oh, I see how it is now. You’re only here for my bathtub!”

I debated with myself for a mere instant.

“Well, of course,” I replied, cutting my eyes to the side with the beginnings of a wicked grin on my lips. I waited a beat. “You did ask me to check your pipes. Bathtubs have pipes…” I batted my eyes innocently.

Reaching for the hem of my shirt, I pulled it off and dropped it on the floor, walking away from him and reaching for the button on my blue jeans. I glanced back over my shoulder just in time to see his jaw snap shut and a hungry look come into his eyes. He scrambled after me, long legs catching me up in three strides.

“Well, if it’s my plumbing you’re lusting after, do allow me to show it off to its best advantage.” He sounded like an avuncular butler as he swept past me to usher me to his en-suite.

Oh good boy, he was going to play along! There had been a tiny part of me that was sure he wouldn’t forgive me for my angry and embarrassing misunderstanding.

I carried on stripping off my jeans, comically hopping about one one foot and then the other, struggling to get free of my trousers and socks in his bedroom, as Tom preceded me and bent to start the bathtub filling. I stopped on the threshold to admire his lovely backside.

His salacious grin flashed over his shoulder. “Don’t let me stop you undressing for this bathing experience, madam…” He slyly suggested.

“Bathing Experience, is it?” I cocked a skeptical eyebrow and reached behind me for the clasp of my bra, letting the straps slide down my arms. I caught the cups just as  they were about to slip off.

Tom was abruptly standing close to me.

“I see your hands are rather full, madam. Allow me to assist you.”

Tom’s fingers ran down my ribs to my hips, hooking into the waistband of my knickers. Plain white cotton, I’m afraid. But then, I did warn him that I wasn’t dressed for polite company.

“I see this is a full service Bathing Experience,” I told him, sounding far more breathless than was cool. 

“We aim to please,” Tom smirked up at me as he knelt, smoothly drawing my knickers down my legs and helping me step out of them. He sat back on his heels, his hands grasping the back of my thighs and drawing me to stand with my feet to either side of his knees. He just sat, devouring me with his eyes as my heart all but leapt out of my chest in anticipation.

At last, after a suitable amount of hands free torture, he leaned forward and kissed my thigh. I swayed on my feet, feeling the soft warmth of his lips and the rough scrape of his stubble on my tender skin.

His hands tightened on my thighs and then he was kissing over my lips, just brushing and teasing. My knees wobbled and I nearly fell, just catching myself by clamping my hands in his hair.

Jesus Tap Dancing Christ! His scalding tongue, working it’s way between my folds, nibbling and sucking nearly sent me into orbit.

“Tom…” I whimpered as he pushed me repeatedly off balance, trembling and lurching.. 

Tom glanced up and knee walked me backwards a few tottering steps to the wall. I leaned back and groaned in relief at not having to concentrate on staying upright. Tom wasn’t done with me yet.

He pulled my leg over his shoulder and opened me up fully. Setting a hand on my hip, he kept me pinned to the wall as he leaned back and watched his fingers explore me, delving delicately between my lips, seeking out my clit and circling it.

Finally, finally, he sucked my clit into his mouth. I spasmed. This uneven rhythm of alternating hard and soft is going to drive me mad, and the bastard knows it. My insides clenched and my hips jutted demandingly.

Circling my clit with his tongue, two fingers swirled around my entrance, pushing in, unerringly finding that ridged place inside and stroking it.

I forced my eyes open and looked down at my hands clenched in his long-ish hair, his curls winding themselves around my fingers. I managed to suppress all but one small snicker at my stray thought.

Tom’s eyes rolled up at me and narrowed.

“Rocky…” he said warningly.

Well, it’s his fault, really. If he hadn’t stopped what he was doing to talk, I wouldn’t have had the breath to talk back.

“If we filmed this,” I tugged at his hair, “we could call it ‘Curls Gone Wild’.” I sniggered.

Tom closed his eyes and dropped his head, shaking it.

“Rocky, Rocky…” he tsked, “one day you’ll pay for each and every bad pun.”

I blinked innocently. “But what about the really good ones?”

“Darling, “ he murmured silkily, “there are no good puns!” And so saying, he dove back into my pussy and I found myself riding his tongue and my orgasm bucking my hips wildly.

When my yell had quit reverberating around the walls, Tom let my limp body slide down the wall into his lap, breathing hard.

“Yee-haw,” I gasped.

I felt his body quaking under me before his laughter pealed out, echoing back at us.

“You’ll never let me take myself too seriously, will you?”

“Eh,” I smirked while I panted, “You don’t do too badly.” 

Tom gave me that admonishing look with the eyebrow thing. 

“You realise, my dear, that there’s a full bathtub of water, right over there.” He nodded his head at the tub.

“Nuh-uh! Drowning is right out! Drowning is on the list along with no whips and chains!”

His eyes narrowed. “Too bad. How do you feel about gags?” he growled.

“What? You don’t want running commentary while you’re- mphf!”  Tom’s large hand covered my mouth, muffling the end of my sentence. A sudden heat flared through my belly.

Tom waited a moment to see if I would object, but I only met his heated gaze, my lips curling in a smile under his palm.

Standing, he pulled me up, lifting me unceremoniously into the tub, and sending bathwater sloshing over the side. I glanced over the edge at the wet floor.

“Hmm, your bathtub appears to leak. You should get that fixed.”

“Good thing I know a plumber, then…” he murmured against my lips. Tom pulled away slowly and smiled with a last caress of my breast. “You should soak. I’m going to start dinner.”

He moved to stand up, but my dripping wet hand shot up and twisted in the front of his shirt. He let me pull him back down for another kiss.

“Just so you know, I’m not done with you.” I growled back and let him go with a small tug of teeth on his lower lip. I watched as he stood and discretely adjusted his trousers. 

I slid under the warm water, luxuriating in the caressing heat. When I surfaced I lay back and floated in the massive tub, listening to the strange echoing underwater silence, feeling the heat seeping into my tired muscles and untying all the knots. God, I love this bath.

Possibly Tom thought he was having me on with that Bathing Experience tosh, but that doesn’t make it less true. This is a Bathing Experience, and I’m gonna Experience the hell out of every damn minute of it.

The tub was big enough that I could actually float on the surface. Now granted I’m not some six foot plus giant, very far from it, but still, this was huge for a tub. I lay drifting with my eyes closed, listening to the odd, muffled sounds of my breathing and my heartbeat while my mind emptied of worries, not even trying to keep track of time.

Tom’s fingers stroked my cheek gently.  “Rocky? Dinner is nearly ready. Let’s get you out, right?”

Taking a deep breath, I smiled and opened my eyes, looking up into all that...pretty. I blinked and Tom’s hands wrapped around my arms, gently pulling me up and lifting me out of the warm water. He steadied me on the bathmat and turned to reach for a towel. It took me a moment to come out of my daze.

“Holy fuck, it’s cold in here!!” I clutched my arms around my shoulders and shivered violently, goose pimples erupting all over my body.

Tom laughed as he wrapped me up in an enormous turquoise bath sheet, and began to dry my arms with a smaller towel, stroking gently. He looked up with a glint in his eyes.

“The cold does wonderful things to your nipples, though.”

I shivered again, more for effect than because I was that cold anymore. Tom’s eyes tracked the pronounced wobble.

“Well from my point of view, they’re so hard they bloody hurt!” I grumbled.

Tom snickered again and finally stopped faffing about with that stupid towel. He dropped it and began to rub my body vigorously with the bath sheet. If you’ve ever seen a mother cat lick a wet kitten dry, you’ll understand. I laughed, my voice quavering as he jostled me.

“O-o-kay! O-k-k-k-ay-y! Give me that, I can do it! Where’s my clothes? I’m—“ my stomach gurgled loudly, and we both stopped and stared at my midsection, then burst into laughter. I shrugged and lifted my hands.

“Body don’t lie.” I said ruefully. “I’m hungry!”

Tom grinned. “Well, they do say that hunger is the best sauce! At least now I know you’ll eat my poor efforts, whatever you think of my cooking.”

I threw the towel over my hair to squeeze the excess water from it, and to hide my grimace, wondering what awful bachelor culinary disaster he’s about to inflict on me. But I don’t want to be rude. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to choke down some awful concoction for the sake of politeness. I had learned to cook purely out of self defense against my Dad’s cooking, after all. Eggs and Soldiers was the best he ever managed.

“Wait!” Tom flipped an imperious hand up and disappeared into his bedroom, returning quickly with my clothing, all folded and neatly stacked. He handed them over to me and started to leave me to dress before he apparently remembered something. Reaching around to his back pocket, he brought out a pair of his scrummy thick wool socks.

I crowed happily and juggled my armful of clothing, trying to snatch them out of his hands without dropping either the clothes or the bath sheet trying to slither away. Tom grinned at me, pulling the socks far out of reach.

“Allow me, madam.” He went down on one knee in front of me and patted his thigh in invitation, shaking a sock out. He gathered the sock properly to the toe and looked up, waiting patiently for me to lift my foot to his knee.

Right. If he wants to play silly buggers I’ll go along…

I carefully raised my leg, pointing my toes in the most prissy, porny way possible and touched them to his kneecap. I might be clumsy in other ways, but my balance was always quite good.

Tom glanced up, flashing me a grin of appreciation for my willingness to fall in with him.

He proceeded to do his best impersonation of Prince Charming trying the glass slipper on Cinderella. It was all I could do not to burst out in giggles at how gallantly and solemnly he seemed to take the task of inserting my feet into his old socks.

His tongue peeked out in concentration as he carefully lifted each foot and drew on the socks, setting them on the floor carefully without upsetting my balance.

I stared silently at him as he did, slightly puzzled and curious at him taking the whole process so seriously. Once both feet were on the floor, he meticulously arranged the socks over my ankles and finally stood,

I looked down at my feet, wriggling my toes in the warm, soft thickness of the wool socks, and then looked up at him.

“Um, I’ve always wondered; is Charming supposed to be your first name, or your last name?” I asked as seriously as I could.

Tom burst into laughter. I was startled when he reached out an booped my nose.

“Yes!” He grinned and turned to stride out of the bathroom. “Dinner in ten minutes!” He called over his shoulder. “Don’t be late!” 

As soon as he left, I dove into my clothes, grateful to be covered and warm. And he’d brought me that wonderful shawl collared cardi that I’d worn last time… I pulled it on over my own shirt, tugging it closed over my neck and burying my nose in the soft wool. I took a deep luxuriant breath and Tom’s woodsy scent curled around my brain. Damn, he does smell good. I closed my eyes and let myself wallow in it for a moment.

I reluctantly too33k the cardi off and set it aside to scrub the remnants of my eyeliner off my cheeks, and fight with my hair. I braided it back wet into a french plait, and wrapped an elastic from my pocket around the end. I happily snuggled back into his cardi.

My belly gurgled at me again. Right. Stepping out into his bedroom, I immediately picked up the aromas of something good cooking. Curious, I followed my nose as the scents grew stronger, coming to a halt in the kitchen doorway.

Tom was just turning from the oven with oven gloves on his large hands, wrapped around an enormous Yorkshire Pudding.

I blinked and my mouth fell open in astonishment. It’s gorgeous, a golden dome rising high over the dish in a perfect crispy arc around the edge, and a flawless, pale center bowl with wisps of steam wafting up. 

I was slightly jealous. My own efforts with Yorkshire Puddings are always rather wonky. They taste pretty good, but they are never as pretty as this one. Maybe if I’m particularly nice to him, Tom will teach me his secret. I wondered what sort of nice I’d have to be...

“Come in, Rocky!” He deposited the dish on the table and pulled out a chair for me, waving me forward gallantly and kissing my cheek as I sat. I blinked mutely at him, still so surprised that I was literally speechless. I knew I ought to say something silly or snarky or punny, but honestly, I had nothing.

I sat automatically in the chair he was holding and nearly startled off balance when he helped me scoot my chair in. I stared up wide eyed over my shoulder at him. I must have looked a complete numpty. Sue me. It’s the first time a man had actually held my chair and helped me get situated.

Tom’s eyes twinkled over a gentle smile. He must have realised. But instead of taking the mickey, he turned to pick up and bring our plates to the table. It smelled heavenly, and I told him so. He stood holding the plates looking a little pink around the ears.

“Erm, I know this is wildly unorthodox, but Yorkshire pudding is my favorite thing to mop up sauces of any kind, not just brown gravy. I’m the despair of my mother! But you seem like an adventurous sort, perhaps you’ll not be put off by my little perversion?”

“Ooh! Kinky!” I laughed. “Fear not! After years of my dad’s cooking, I’m well used to weird food combinations.” I chuckled. “Dad would sometimes forget to buy milk, and I’d have apple juice in my cornflakes, so I’m game for anything. It was pretty good too!” 

“I gather champagne and Prosecco are the unique drink of choice for cereal now,” he said as he worked around, serving the dish.

“Champagne in cereal? In my neck of the woods the closest we get is sparkling cider.” I laughed. “Still, maybe if I did start the day with a bit o’ bubbly it might go a little smoother...” 

“Oh no,” he told me as he placed fancy salt and pepper shakers on the table, “the world would be a poorer place without that prickly personality of yours.”

My stomach growled loudly again. “Please Tom, won’t you feed me?” I tried on my puppy dog eyes, and that seemed to do the trick. He finally set my plate down in front of me. It smelled bloody marvelous, and my mouth was literally watering.

“I hope you’ll like it,” he said as he put my plate before me. “It’s chicken breasts in a sun-dried tomato cream sauce, with basil. I hope you like basil?” With the slightest worried twist to his lips, I realised that he was actually a little anxious about whether I’d like his food.

My lips quirked as I held back my natural horror of Yorkshire Pudding and a cream sauce—I’d said I’d try it and I will. I set my serviette in my lap, and picked up my knife and fork. I’m evil and I should be ashamed, but I’m not.

“Don’t believe that I know the feller.” I tossed out as I sliced into the tender chicken breast and carefully scooped sauce over the forkful, glancing up at Tom’s confused face.

“Who? What feller?”

I lifted the piece of chicken on my fork and paused. Tom’s eyes were riveted on my fork.

“Basil? Never heard of ‘im.”

Tom’s eyes snapped to mine disbelievingly. After a second he belted out a laugh. Mission accomplished, anxiety broken. While he sputtered I took the opportunity to pop that bite of chicken into my mouth.

Flavors exploded on my tongue and I moaned out loud, belatedly covering my mouth. I sucked in air around it as it was still quite hot, shielding my mouth with my hand, and talked around it, good manners be damned. It tasted too good to wait telling him all about it!

“Oh my god, Tom! This is…holy wow!!” I chewed happily and swallowed.

An enormously pleased smile spread over his face, and he picked up his own knife and fork, tucking into his food.

“God, this is so good! Ok, I lied,” I confessed, “I do know basil! I like basil very much!”

“Basil! Basil!” he gave me his best Sybil Fawlty impression from Fawlty Towers. 

I returned with a brash laugh followed by “Boom Boom!” my impression of Basil brush.

“Aren't you a little young to remember basil Brush?” 

“Oh, he came back a few years ago,” I said. “My youngest nephew loves watching his repeats on Cbeebies.”

Tom grinned happily around his own forkful, chewed, swallowed, wiped his mouth with his serviette, and said, “I’m glad you like it.”  He picked up his wineglass and tilted it toward me, waiting while I dropped my knife and fork and scrambled to pick mine up. Tom’s lips twitched as he watched me, and touched our wine glasses together with a soft chime.

“Here’s to Basil!” He intoned. I almost sloshed the wine out of my glass with my giggle.

“To Basil!” I agreed and paused before adding, “May he never repeat on you!”

We snickered together for a moment before sipping the crisp white wine. It was very good plonk, I suppose. I still prefer a good, chewy, dark Guinness. But the saucy chicken and Yorkshire pudding were bloody marvelous, so I let Tom do most of the talking whilst I tucked in, asking him about his work, and if there was anything he was working on that he could talk about.

And he was off. He’s fascinating to watch as he talks, his face so mobile and expressive, waving his fork about, a couple of times even setting knife and fork down to make shapes with his hands as he described something about the play for which he’d just started rehearsals.

He asked me about my work, and I teased him about whether he really wanted to know about having to unstopper old Mrs. Wylie’s loo three times that week, and what I’d found, whilst he was eating this lovely meal. He conceded that maybe I was right. He’s learning!

Finally I mopped up the last bit of delectable sauce with the last bit of pud, popped it into my mouth and pushed my empty plate back, barely suppressing a groan over my full belly. 

I picked up my wine glass as I settled back on my chair, and tipped my glass at him.

“A very nice bit of nosh there, Thomas,” I toasted him and drank. “You can do all the cooking from now on!”

Tom grinned back, not at all put out.

“Is this where I’m meant to confess that I only know how to cook one dish?”

“Yeah, pull the other one, chum. I don’t believe a word of it. That was marvelous, and you know it! No one who can produce a meal that gorgeous can claim to be a one off!” I jerked my head down decisively, having made my pronouncement. A thought crossed my mind and I sat up, narrowing my eyes at him.

“Unless it was all reheated takeaway, put on your own plates?”

“No, sorry. It was all me, I’m afraid.”

“Well then,” I sat back and folded my arms in satisfaction, “you’re back on as chef.” I smiled smugly at him.

“At your service, madam!” He made a sitting bow, and I giggled. Tom topped off my glass and stood to take the plates to the sink, motioning me back into my chair when I started to get up to help clear. I watched him move confidently around his kitchen, putting the food away while I sipped my wine.

“Shall we finish our wine in front of the fire?” He nodded toward the lounge and picked up his glass and the wine bottle. 

We settled on the sofa in the warm firelight and talked about the meal. Well, to be honest I gushed about it and pestered him to show me how he gets his Yorkshire pudding to rise so beautifully.  He teased me in turn that I was only after him for his bathtub. Eventually he set his wine glass down and regarded me seriously.

“Now, about your punishment for all those bad puns. Maybe you just want to be turned over my knee?” 

He sat watching me speculatively, waiting for my reaction. Bloody hell. With bells on. 

I slowly uncurled and leaned forward to carefully set my glass down, sitting up and regarding him assessingly. 

“Is that what you like? Hitting women?”

Tom’s eyebrows shot up and an indignant look came over his face.

I burst out laughing. “Oh my god, if only you could see your face! I was only kidding!” 

He relaxed and patted my bum in an imitation of a spank.

“But for the record, I’m not into all that pain and domination stuff-“

“No, really??” Tom’s grin was sardonic. “I’m shocked!”  I narrowed my eyes at him for his interruption.

“I might see the appeal of some toys though.” I wriggled a bit, thinking what I might do to him with a tie and a feather...

“Blindfolds and flavoured massage oils?” 

“Mmm. Maybe,” I actually kind of liked the idea of a blindfold.  “And I admit, I’m might be... intrigued by the idea of you tied up.” 

“At your mercy?” he purred.

“Well... I’ve heard that sex is supposed to be a bonding experience.”

He groaned at my pun. “Definitely getting you a gag!” 

“Well, anyway. I do try to live by that golden rule thingy, ’do unto others as you would be done by’. I won’t lie, I like a bit of rough now and again, me. If it’s mutual. A slap on the arse in the heat of the moment can be a fine thing. But if you expect me to be all subby and not give back as good as I get, well, you’re barking up the wrong girl!”

He chuckled at my mixed metaphors

“And anyway, you’re the one who brought up handcuffs and gags.” I poked a finger into his ribs. He yelped and flinched away, grabbing my finger and kissing it, not letting go when I tugged.

“So I did.” He nodded gravely. “Do you suppose that we might be…” his eyes widened dramatically, “getting to know each other??”

I stared at him. “Good god! I guess a Cambridge education is worth something, after all!”

“I knew it had to be good for something.” The eyebrow acquired a sardonic tilt, but there was a definite twinkle lurking.

“So, what if we agree that if we want something, we just say. And if we don’t want something, we just say that too? Will that do, do you think?”

I grinned. “You know, between the two of us, we might just get this whole speaking English thing worked out!”

Tom chuckled, wrapping his arms around me, and pulling me closer. We sat cuddled together, relaxed and enjoying this moment of accord, my head resting on his chest, playing with the buttons on his shirt, his hand stroking my hair. I enjoyed it, but it’s not me to just let things be.

“So, shall we do unto each other?” I asked, walking my fingers up his shirt and looking up at him through my lashes.

A slow smile spread over his face. Cupping my cheek, he kissed me so sweetly. I gave him back his sweetness, my hands reaching for him.

“Well then. I’ve no objection, me—”

He scooped me up as I yelped and actually threw me over his shoulder! Fucking hell, the posh idiot has actual working muscles under all that pretty. Apparently they’re not just for show!

He carried me up to his bedroom. I might have objected, but I was too entranced with the sight of his arse as he climbed the stairs. My only regret was that my arms weren’t long enough to allow me to get a really good grasp of those cheeks and feel their flexing seared into my palms. The visual memory will have to do. For now.

Rocky... I want to be inside you in the worst way...” he murmured seductively.

I couldn’t help myself. 

“Thomas, I’d rather you were inside me in the best way!”  I stood on my toes to lick his neck.

“Mmm.” Tom tilted his head up in appreciation, so I licked him again, savoring the slightly salty, woodsy taste of him.

He stepped back and as near as no matter, tore his clothing off. Which seemed like a good idea to me. I followed suit. But I kept the fluffy socks on.

Tom walked me backwards until the back of my knees met the bed. Setting his hands on my shoulders, he quirked a mischievous eyebrow and gave me a shove.

I fell back with a shriek onto the bed, bouncing with laughter. Tom loomed over me, staring down.

“Gods, but you’re gorgeous, Rocky,” he intoned, slowly reaching to run a hand down my body, leaving a scorching trail on my skin. I stared up at him, feeling my skin prickle at his lingering touch. I felt a sly smile tug at my lips.

“Give us a kiss  Thomas.” I demanded. Tom climbed onto the bed, his knees on either side of me, bracing himself over me on straight arms. His naughty grin morphed into a serious lustful expression.

“I’m very glad you came back, Rocky.” And so saying, he lowered his head to take my lips in a bruising, breathless kiss. My hands fisted in his shirt, holding him as I tangled my tongue with his in turn.

He lifted a hand and gripped my hair, holding my head still as he deepened the kiss. He plundered my mouth, teasing and taking.

He walked his lips down my throat in kisses to my collarbone and sucked at the soft skin there. Fuck. Me.

I groaned and arched under him, desperate to rub my body against his. My hands moved under his arms and wrapped around his back, pulling him down on me, and he let me.

I whimpered as his legs settled between my thighs and felt the steel bar pressing heavily against my mound.

“I want you...” I whispered in his ear, tangling a hand in his hair and leaning up to kiss his neck. I felt his body shudder in my arms, and his pelvis suddenly grinding against me, accompanied by a deep throated groan. I widened my thighs, thrusting up against him in a broad hint.

Tom sat upright between my thighs without warning, and twisted to reach a condom from the bedside. He tore open the packet and soon was rolling it down his shaft. I shook my head at myself as I watched him. So much pretty. I’m not actually drooling, I’m just...swallowing a lot.

Tom looked up, drawing his hand down his cock , staring into my eyes.

“Be patient my girl. Possess your soul.” he murmured as he stroked himself slowly. I pulled my head back, peering suspiciously at him. 

“Is that Shakespeare?”

He smirked. “No. Luke 21:19.” He gave himself another slow stroke.

I goggled up at him. Was he actually quoting the bloody Bible this close to fucking me??

Tom took advantage of my momentary bewilderment,  lifted my leg around his hip and plunged into me.

“Fuck!” I groaned as he invaded me, stretching me all at once.  So full... He held still a moment, his eyes squeezed shut and a muscle jumping in his jaw as he waited for some unknown signal. 

I lifted my other leg around him and crossed my ankles at the small of his back, lifting my hips demandingly.

“Fuck me now.” I whispered.

Tom’s eyes opened, clear blue staring down into mine, and slid slowly out of me before powering back in with enough authority to push me up the bed. Tom reached to grab the headboard as he pounds into me, the entire bed jolting with his strength. His intensity is nearly too much, and I have to fight not to close my eyes or look away.

Tom drops down on me, his body hard and heavy as his hands slide under my arse, gripping hard and using just the power of his hips to thrust into me, his face buried in my neck and panting hotly. 

Short, sharp thrusts set my tits rubbing against his hard chest, alternating with rolling, grinding hips, my clit caught between us and not enough space for my hand to provide the last bit that I need.

My body shivered and arched. My orgasm bubbled somewhere deep inside, fizzing electrically along my nerves, hovering there but unable to release. I need...I need...

Without warning he rolled us. I yelped my surprise, my head whirling at the unexpected move.

“Christ, Tom! Give a girl some warning, will ya?” I gasped, frustrated as I shoved my wild hair out of my face, my orgasm, which had been right there dammit, receding.

Tom chuckled, shifting his hips under me. “No chance! I want to watch these gorgeous tits dance.”

His hands on my shoulders, he pushed me semi upright while grinding his cock into me. I pulled my knees up automatically to either side of his hips 

Well fine. I smirked and raised my hands overhead, stretching back into a spine popping arc, my tits thrust out in invitation.

He lifted his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while kneading my other tit. I hissed in a breath as his mouth reignited the flames. God yes.

I found myself mindlessly grinding down on him, chasing the edge again in short order, as he murmured encouragement and imprecations. God, listening to his voice could almost push me over all on it’s own.

I slid my hand between us as I rocked my hips frantically, circling a fingertip around my clit with just the right pressure.

“Oh yes, Rocky... Do that, I want to watch you touch yourself...” His hands grasped my arse and rocked me harder  faster. A tiny part of my mind shivered in embarrassment at his words , at touching myself so intimately in front of anyone, but most of my head was focused on finding that glorious brink and then trying to hold off just...a bit...longer.

Tom’s voice was getting more ragged, taking on a note of demand as I bent to balance myself with one hand on his chest, driving myself onto him.

Our tongues tangled together in a mad, slick dance.

“Christ, Rocky..!” His voice sounded strained and desperate, “Now, now, yes, come on, that’s it..!”

Tom shoved his thumb down directly on my clit and I detonated like a bomb, shaking and yelling, writhing and clenching around him.

Both his hands were gripping my hips as his powerful thighs lifted, driving into me, knocking me off balance to fall heavily onto his chest, limply riding out my climax.

A strangled shout came from him, and I felt him jerking his release inside me. I lay on his chest, both of us still twitching and panting harshly for several long minutes. Eventually I roused enough to turn my head and open my eyes, looking at him with exhausted half lidded eyes.

Tom combed my hair back from my face with his fingers. “Yee-haw?” He asked.

I giggled tiredly. “Very yee-haw.” I agreed.

Later I yawned and stretched, waking from my light doze. Turning my head, I found a pair of steel blue eyes watching me in the low lamplight. When he saw I was awake he reached up to draw a finger over my lips.

I grinned at him, opened my mouth and captured his finger, biting down lightly and flicking my tongue over the pad of his fingertip. He chuckled, wriggling his finger in my mouth.

“You’re a dangerous woman, Rocky.”

With a little nip, I let him go . “And don’t you forget it, chum!” I sassed back.

I stretched once more and sighed, sitting up and letting the sheet fall to my waist.

“Well, must be getting on...” Flicking the sheets back, I made to get out of his warm bed, much as it pained me to do so.

“Oh, but surely— Won’t you stay?”

“No, sorry. Some of us have to work in the morning. And don’t call me Shirley! ” I teased.

Tom looked disappointed, ignoring my little feeble joke entirely, and I leaned over and kissed him for that. Then I shoved my way out of his bed and went about gathering my scattered clothing off the floor. He watched silently. I was glad he wasn’t whinging at me about stopping the whole night. I really did have an early morning.

I dropped my load of clothes on the bed next to him. He had rolled up on one elbow, watching quietly as I dressed. I was a bit surprised. It wasn’t the first time I’d got dressed and left a bloke in bed, but Tom’s posh manners had made me think he wasn’t the type to let me leave without walking me to the door at the least. I shrugged. Whatever.

I picked out my knickers and slid them on, reaching for my jeans and stepping into them. I looked up to find him watching me avidly.

“Enjoying yourself?”

He grinned. “Oh, yes. But it is more fun to take them off you!”

I huffed as I finished zipping up and looked for my bra.  Not there. Glancing around the floor, I asked if he’d seen it. I looked up at the purr in his voice.

“You can’t find your bra? Oh dear, what a pity.” He looked positively delighted.

“You could get up and help me find it.” I prodded as I got down on my hands and knees to look under the bed. He snickered and rolled to peer over the side at me with mischief glinting in his eyes.

“Oh no, dear. I have work tomorrow as well. I’m much too tired to get out of bed right now.”

“You’re a right sod.” I grumbled, hiding a smile.

“Oh darling, you have no idea...” The purr was back.

I sat back on my heels and narrowed my eyes at him. 

He lay relaxed on his side, head propped on his hand, and the sheet draped over his hips, comfortable in his bed as he enjoyed the entertainment, the rat bastard.

I stood swiftly and yanked the sheet from his body to get a little of my own back. My eyes slid down that cut chest and belly, following that happy trail with my eyes. His cock was still semi hard, plump and lying on his thigh. Maybe that hadn’t been such a good idea.

I nearly licked my lips and meowed, but I really must get going. Just then I caught sight of my bra. One of the shoulder straps was twisted around Tom’s ankle. He lay back, folding his arms under his head and crossing his ankles, effectively trapping my bra. His eyes twinkled at me, a sly grin on his face, and his cock jerking to life.

“See something you want? Come and get it, I dare you,” he purred.

“Fuckit.” I shoved my jeans and knickers off again.

Later as I drove home, I reflected on the wisdom of letting Tom tease me into another round. But honestly, I couldn’t complain.


End file.
